It Never Stays in Vegas
by Blueberry01120
Summary: What Loki Laufeysdottir gets for waking up in Vegas is a court-ordered six month marriage to an empty headed Wall Street Frat bro, and Thor Odinson gets an ultimatum from his father and the condescending company of a professional liar in the body of a supermodel. They both won't last these six months alive because what happened in Vegas? Well, it didn't stay in Vegas.
1. Chapter 1

1.

"Turn up, Loki," sing-songs Darcy. "It's Vegas." And she gets a well-earned cock of Loki's eyebrow and roll of her eyes for that.

Now if she'd simply said "calm down" then Loki wouldn't regret so much not asking her RA at Yale for a new roommate, and hopefully getting a saner, more mature so-called best friend in the process. Because none of them—the other friends Darcy's managed to make besides Loki— are eager little co-eds on spring break looking to "pop a few Mollies." They're all beyond that, and whether she likes it or not, including Darcy.

"It's never too late for me to call a cab and go back to New York," Loki replies, nodding a thanks to the man—asshole staring at her breasts-holding the door, "so you should be grateful that I used some vacation days to come here at all."

The debauchery's practically smeared on everything from tacky ceiling to even tackier carpet. All the vomit that's splattered these floors and been shittily moped away, ew, Loki's Louboutins will never be the same.

"Like you don't have a year of them saved up, Miss Lawyer Lady. Come on. A night at the Bellagio after getting some prime man meat dangling in our wasted faces. It's what you've yearned for. Hostile takeovers can only get a girl's engines revving so much."

"Because those just get me soaked." She flashes a cordial smile and hands the concierge her black card. "Reservation under Laufeysdottir."

Behind her, they're discussing just which of the clubs they'll stop at first and whether they're going to get bottle service because that's just what they need to get the night started, and Loki hums and nods responses to the concierge's questions and convinces herself that she really wouldn't rather be across a client.

She's earned this break, and it's only one day. The firm can't fuck up too much without her vote.

"If you're lucky, you'll meet a guy hot enough for some bump and grind," Darcy says, and Loki simply smiles because Darcy's forever the optimist and that's one of the few reasons Loki didn't go to the RA.

Loki won't even get drunk tonight.

Loki wakes up with her brain hammering against her skull and naked in what she hopes is her bed, and realizes that maybe, she did get a little drunk last night. She cracks her eyes open, and hm, that's a definitely on last night's drunk situation.

She turns onto her side, and almost screams in shock because that lukewarm, sticky mess dripping out of her, that's how drunk she was. As in 'don't use a condom with a stranger' drunk and college had its moments but never moments where whatever lucky hard-on pointing at her was good enough for the risk.

IUD's don't protect against STD's though the men lucky to share Loki's bed call high class escorts on their unlucky nights.

There's a groan behind her and the bed shifts.

He's the hottest man she's ever seen. Loki remembers that without turning around, and probably the best she's ever had with how she aches, at the hips and below, because he was rough.

Just as she likes it.

She goes toss the mess of her hair behind her shoulder and something gold shines in that painful sunlight, and Loki loves her more than fair share of jewelry but rings, only the specialist of occasions call for them.

The ring on her left hand, heavy, solid gold, didn't come from her jewelry box.

She hears an "I do" in a happy voice, unmistakably her own, and can practically taste the cake on her dry tongue.

Oh, shit.

"We should just stay in here all day." His voice, the sound of ax-swinging masculinity. "Last night was fucking amazing."

Getting married—married!—to a complete stranger is the opposite of "fucking amazing,"

No matter how gorgeous he and his sculpture perfect body are.

This man, manly man, is a stranger.

He holds up his hand, and of course he has the matching ring on. "Whoa, wait, what the hell is this?"

She grabs her panties off the ground, and right down the middle, they're almost torn in half.

"What did we—what did you do to me?"

Because a gorgeous stranger couldn't be bad enough.

Loki throws his shirt at him, and he catches it, and because whatever brain he has under all that blond hair can't process anything but anger, he balls it up and tosses it away to keep glaring at Loki. "The sooner you get dressed, the sooner we can get on a plane to New York to get this annulled and go back to our own lives."

"Yeah, you want that don't you, so you can take half of my money and run off and spend it all before you trick someone else into marrying you. That's what you models do. You're all glorified, overpaid escorts."

There are no gorgeous strangers with harlequin book hero personalities in reality, Las Vegas or otherwise.

She shoves this insecure chauvinist's jeans at him and laughs. "Actually, you Neanderthal, I earn every cent to my name. Do you know what my billable hours run? For me to even listen to you ramble on about taking what's probably Daddy's money, it's $1,243 an hour. My time is money, and I'm not going to waste it married to a man I'm realizing is the last person in the world I'd marry sober."

He looks at her, confused. "You're a… lawyer."

"Yes, which is why I'm telling you to get dressed, so you can get a ticket for my flight to New York and we can go get this annulled. And the marriage will never have been valid, so neither of us will be taking half of anything."

He—Thor, she remembers, Thor Odinson, folds his arms across his still bare chest. It's unfortunate that a body like that's attached to a brain like his. "I'm sorry I said that. I just never planned to get married until I was at least 40 because I've seen people I know marry these women, really hot women, that they love without prenups and end up with nothing."

Loki pauses in the bathroom doorway, and Thor's staring at her ass. "You should congratulate yourself that you were lucky enough to marry me even if it won't count tomorrow," she says, and the sheets drop away from Thor as he gets up, and _oh_, that's… something.

Big—_big_—and uncut and he has it groomed nicely—but no cock is a reason to get married.

Thor lifts his eyebrows and smirks, and Loki slams the door on him and his big cock before any more stupid shit happens.

At as much ease as she can be with that gold thing on her finger, dressed for court with the beige daffodil Louboutins on and the matching Birkin in her hand because the moment they land at LaGuardia, it's a cab to New York's Courthouse, Loki's completely composed when Darcy's bridal party all drag themselves out of the elevator in varying grades of hungover.

An aspirin for Loki and it was like she wasn't drunk enough to get married last night. Miraculous.

Loki slides on her sunglasses. She needs all the calm she can get.

"Look who met her prince charming last night," Darcy says, pulling the hood to Ian's stolen hoodie over her mussed hair. "Where's Thor?"

"You're the worst best friend that's ever existed," Loki says quietly through clenched teeth, and Jane peeps up and says, "From what I remember, it was actually kind of nice."

"So nice." Darcy nods for effect that's lost on Loki. "You two are like the hottest couple alive. When you guys have like the Cinderella wedding you lie and say you don't want, _People _are going to be all over that."

"There isn't going to be a Cinderella wedding, Darcy. It was a mistake that will never happen again and that I'm going to have taken care of. If you value your life, you'll never talk about it again."

"Loki, dude. you can't divorce him yet. That's going make it all awkward at the wedding. The best man and the maid of honor walk down the aisle together."

"Then you shouldn't have let us get married in the first place." She drops all pretense of happiness. "I was so drunk that I didn't know I even got married until I saw the ring this morning and neither did he."

"But you're like the soberest drunk ever, and he went to 'Drunkmouth.' You were both pretty sober when we got the marriage licenses so." She stops getting in the cab to turn and wag her eyebrows because this is just the greatest joke to her. "You two couldn't keep your hands off each other, so the sex must've been out of this world at least. Thank me for agreeing to marry this dork later."

Loki's had her fair share of relationships built on sex and subpar conversations at five star restaurants. Marriage wasn't and still isn't in her plans, but if it was, it wouldn't be like those relationships.

There's no doubt that at Dartmouth Thor was in some trust fund frat with his Rolex over his sweater sleeve and his hands in his gray chinos strutting through the terminal like Daddy owns the place. Loki just knows he's looking her over behind those sunglasses, remembering what's underneath her clothes.

First and last time he'll ever see.

"Thor, my double brother in law." Darcy puts a hand on his shoulder, and he slips a piece of gum in his mouth and pulls out his phone. "Don't tell me you've got that same crazy idea about getting a divorce because I'll have Ian spill your embarrassing secrets from prep school if you do."

"Darcy, you should shut up before your wedding is the last time we ever speak," Loki says, and she walks toward airport security.

She drops the ring in her belonging box, and the freedom lasts only as long as it takes to go through screening. No, she doesn't put it back on her finger, but it's like a weight in her bag, and Loki packs light.

Fortunately, Thor didn't somehow get seated next to her. It's just dreamy Jane.

Loki avoids Darcy and anything she might have to say, and wordlessly, Thor's close behind, getting his bags and even unnecessarily trying to grab Loki's which she does herself with a tight smile.

"So, um, how long do these usually take?"

She hails a cab. "Six months—"

"You're not fucking serious."

"But we're not waiting that long," she says and tells the driver where to go.

They don't even wait in the line at the clerk's window because the clerk on duty knows her so well. She tells him to ignore all the unnecessary steps with a coy smile, letting her hair fall over her shoulder the right way, and he hands over everything. "Thank you so much."

Surprisingly, Thor knows his social security number by heart, so he's at least .001% brain, and he's three years younger than Loki and thinks that it's funny that Loki's older than him.

"It isn't Daddy's money by the way," he says as he scribbles his signature. "I have a job and make my own money too."

"Then, what, it's Daddy's connections, right?" Loki bites her tongue between his teeth as Thor throws the pen and flops back onto the bench. "Don't worry. I figured that much by your address. Independent with an asterisk."

"And I love it that way." Of course he does. All of his type, Wall Street frat boy, does.

$400 and three hours sitting beside Thor while he smacks his infinite supply of gum and plays some mindless game on his phone later, the clerk calls for them, and tells Loki that a Judge Sitwell will see them in his chambers.

"I can never thank you enough."

This divorce hasn't been standard procedure, but whether it's in the judge's chambers or in the fucking hallway, Loki's going to get it finished tonight.

'Judge Jasper Sitwell' is a bald man with glasses that's checking Loki out from the moment she steps over the threshold, and he gives Thor this disgusted once over that says a lot about his experiences with Thor's type. Loki knows the feeling. "Mr. and Mrs. Odinson, please, have a seat."

Loki sits, laughing more for Sitwell's benefit than hers. "I'm still Ms. Laufeysdottir, your honor."

He knows. "I know," he says, and Loki bites than tip of her tongue and takes a breath. "I never thought I'd see your name on anything but the district court docket, but you're here in my office at 11:30 at night asking for an annulment. Didn't think we'd be here today, did you?"

Some men, judges particularly, like to wave their gavel around to compensate for what they don't have in their pants, and some lawyers cower, but Loki's not one of them.

"I've learned that I can't hold my liquor as well as I thought I could."

"You look fine to me." Sitwell smiles. "You both do. Like something out of a RomCom."

"I took Aspirin," she says. "I know that you have lots of other divorces to get to before going home, so I don't mind if you rush through this. Your honor, I trust your vast experience."

Thor scoffs. He should keep his mouth shut like he should've at the altar. They wouldn't be here without his "I do" as well.

"Hm, no."

No?

That's… not an acceptable answer.

Sitwell tosses aside what's presumably their Judgment of Divorce, unsigned, and says, "I'm not signing this. You're right. I do have vast experience in divorces, and I don't see any reason to give this one. You have no witnesses to support your claim that you were 'mentally incapacitated through means of intoxication,' and witness testimony is fallible."

The condescending prick holds up three fingers and puts two down. "One, your marriage was solemnized, and maybe you were intoxicated and unable to fully give legal consent. But when you were given a marriage license, you weren't intoxicated enough to not give your legal consent. You know the generality."

"But I don't remember getting the marriage license, and I'm not a visible drunk."

Thor says nothing. He probably remembers it all with how he's adapted to getting wasted.

"I'm sure you'll remember in time. Now, what I will do is try to get your new marriage off to smooth start. How about an injunction on any annulment or divorce for six months? Enough time for you two to decide if you its working, and then you can get a divorce if it isn't."

"What if we go with the regular time for the, uh, divorce?" Thor's talking, but Sitwell is far too much of a jackass to listen to anything but the sound of himself kissing his own ass. "I can't be married for six months and then wait another six months to get divorced. I have stuff to do."

"We all have stuff to do, Mr. Odinson, and now you have her to come home to when you're done with this stuff." Loki could slap that smug little look off Sitwell's greasy face. "So, where you're your primary residence be?"

"Your honor, please, just sign the—"

"Yours, Mr. Odinson?"

"No, he lives with his parents."

"My father owns the house, but he stays in the Hamptons. I don't live with my parents." Because that's so much better.

"My penthouse is on Fifth Avenue, and I'm not moving out of it, so if there has to be any primary residence, it's there."

"Already coming to agreements. This is the start to something special."

That sanctimonious piece of shit is going to regret going into law when Loki's finished with him.

"What the fuck are we going to do?" Thor asks, and Loki snatches the copy of Sitwell's power trip from the clerk's hand and shoves it into her bag. "I had 14 years until I was going to think of getting married, and now I'm stuck with you."

Loki's going to go get tested for whatever Thor might've given her last night and raid the nearest 24-hour convenience store for pregnancy tests because while the chances might be small since Loki's vagina is not on fire and there's an IUD shoved right up there, Thor's a dudebro with a huge dick.

Better safe now than even sorrier later.

"I'm just going to go my parents like I should've because they do have connections, and I know you're too good for that, but I'm getting out of this any way I can." Thor pats her arm like she's one of his bros and goes to do just that, which was bound to happen.

Men like Thor run to Mommy and Daddy and Mommy and Daddy run to their lawyer. As long as Loki's getting paid thousands of dollars, she'll clean up the messes of their boarding school brats.

Loki looks over the court order, and no, that's just not acceptable.

She sighs and calls her own dad because her pride isn't going to stop her from getting that divorce from Thor Odinson.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

"How was Darcy's bachelorette party?" Her mom's packing for DC, and it's just luck that Loki caught her before she left because talking to them both over the phone about her fuck-up wouldn't be all that great.

It's only her dad whose yelling will come over the phone, and with her mom here in the room, he'll hold back.

"It was what I expected, a massive waste of my time."

"You think that anything outside of the office is a waste of your time, Loki," her father says, and he's right. Nearly everything is a waste of her time. "I'm sure that it was fun for everyone else, but you can never stand to loosen up."

"Darcy was always good for getting you to have some fun," says her mom. "I'm happy she's found someone for her."

If Darcy had chosen anyone else, the best man wouldn't have been Thor and Loki wouldn't be married to him. There's no happiness for her from Loki.

"So, Loki, why've you gotten us together? We only know you're alive through your cases, and we're lucky to even get texts from you that you haven't died from sleep deprivation." Like her mom doesn't skim here and there on sleep during reelection.

She sucks her teeth. "I need a divorce. Fast."

Her mom looks at her hand, but that ring is still in Loki's bag where it will remain until this is over and she can pawn it. "You need to be married first to get a divorce. This is common knowledge."

"I know that, and I somehow got married, so I need a divorce." She puts on a self-deprecating smile. Her parents should like that. "It's the biggest mistake I've ever made, and I understand that you both might be disappointed. I'm disappointed in myself. If you'd just talk to a few family judges and get them to give me a divorce, I'll never do something so stupid again. Trust me."

Her mom leans back on her desk and crosses her arms.

"You tried and failed to get one already," her dad says, and Loki nods and replies, still annoyed, "Yes."

"The judge, Sitwell, has this idea that making me and him stay together in my apartment for six months before we can even try for a divorce will work, but this guy that I drunkenly eloped with isn't the kind of guy I can stand for a single day."

"I couldn't stand your father when we first met. He thought he was—what do they say—'the shit.'"

"And I was and still am, Farbauti. Loki, that isn't the worst injunction he could've given. I actually agree with it."

"I was drunk, Dad. Mom, if you were still at the DA's office, that would be your first argument why my marriage should be annulled. I wasn't of sound mind to make legally consent to a contract."

"They say the alcohol is the truth serum of the soul. Drunk or not, you saw something worthy of marrying in that man. Of course, your choice in men isn't the greatest, so maybe I could look into—"

Her mom ends the call just when Loki's dad was remembering who he is, a sane, just man. "You need to find a life outside of law, Loki. Yes, law is your life, but it shouldn't be. No job should be your whole life. At the end of the six months, you might get your divorce, but you'll have went through something interesting to get there."

"This is what happens to you when your best friend is Mitch McConnell, Mom." She grabs her bag, and her mom rolls her eyes like Loki's being unreasonable. What are parents for if they don't bail you out when you finally need them? "Hopefully, you and Dad realize your mistake, and at Darcy's wedding, have a signed Judgment of Divorce for me."

"Goodbye to you too, Loki."

That Danish 'everything can happen for a reason as long as you learn from it' philosophy may work in Senate and the Supreme Court, but it won't work for Loki's sham of a marriage.

"You're not getting a divorce, Thor."

His mother would flip out if he asked his father "Why the hell not?" so Thor doesn't do that. She's rarely happy to see him since he's usually coming to say sorry for something that's going to be blown out of proportion in _Forbes_ tomorrow morning, but she's pretty happy now.

"You're at the age where you need to settle down. Slutting around and drinking your responsibilities away isn't acceptable any longer." His father pushes his glasses up his nose, and Thor's looking at his hands, at that ring, because it's like he can see through him. "Look where that's led you now. Tell me about her, is she like the bed warmers you're so fond of."

God, his mother's starting to give him that look, and Thor knows he fucked up, okay?

"No. Loki's a lawyer. She makes like $1,000 an hour and hates me because I was born lucky," he says. "I mean, okay, she's attractive, and looks just as good without make-up, but talking to her is like." He shakes his head. "Mother, you're always saying looks aren't everything, and Loki looks like a supermodel, but she might be the worst person I've ever met."

He's known her a day, but Loki's like no one he's ever met, and when he's sober-like he is most of the time, thank you very much, Father—when they're both sober, it's terrible.

"I'm sure she's not so bad, Thor," his mother says, and Thor doesn't understand why they're so eager to get him tied down. Life's about doing what you love, and that's exactly what Thor does. It backfired this time because he got a little too hammered, but there aren't chapels on every corner in New York City like Vegas.

His father goes to the window, and his mother reaches across the table to pat his hand.

"If I don't see an effort to make a change in you, at the end of this six months, everything that I've generously given you, I shall take away. You deserve only what you earn," he says, calmly like everything, and his mother takes his father's arm and leads him out of the room like Thor's not even there.

How does this make any sense to him? Force Thor to stay married someone he doesn't want to be married to, yeah, that's really going to make him want sex with the same person for the rest of his life. Like Thor can't get some on the side if he really wanted.

Ian gives him Loki's number, and Thor's not in a getting talked down to mood, so he puts his phone on silent and takes Ian to get wasted.

Turns out that girls aren't attracted to the wedding ring. They just want to talk about the actual wedding and getting wasted isn't so appealing to him anymore.

"Morning, ma'am."

Swallowing her coffee, Loki catches the navy police cap in the corner of her eye.

The old normal is good. It helps her forget that ring she's slipped into her wallet.

Officer Rogers' smile is wide and bright like always as he joins her at the curb. "Good to see you're alright. I was worried when I didn't catch you come by these past few mornings. I hoped you were just taking some time off from the job."

"I'm as fine as I can be after a trip like that," she says. No STD's, not pregnant, the way she left New York.

He lifts his eyebrows, satisfied.

"How've you been? You look as good as I left you, officer."

"Thank you, ma'am. You always know how to flatter me. But I've been great. Buck and I've started planning a little something for Fourth of July—"

"Your birthday."

"Yep, my birthday." He gives a shy smile. The most modest man in uniform. "But you should try to swing by. I know you'll probably have work, but I know now too that you can take days off."

The crossing symbol turns yellow.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Steve," she says, stepping off the curb. He's one of the rare men who doesn't watch Loki walk away to admire how her dress' like a second skin over her ass.

It's all about safety with Officer Steve Rogers.

Her parents still haven't called to tell her that the judgment is in the mail or that they've emailed her a copy. They should really get on that because time till Darcy's wedding is running out, and Loki's warned them that they're going to realize their mistake by then and the longer they wait, the more terrible they're going to feel.

Loki does actually care about her parents' feelings.

Maria's reading the transcript from a deposition like it's the last thing she'd rather be doing but does because she's paid well and respects her job and everything that it entitles, and Loki listens to her monotone and paraphrases the mixture of fact and bullshit. People lie, especially when there's a few million dollars to lose, but no one bullshits Loki.

Her phone flashes on a stack of briefings, and Maria keeps talking like Loki hired her to.

It's an unknown number, but the _I'll be at your house at 11:00_ says enough about whose it is.

Loki takes a deep, calming breath. Oh, yes, she has to share her space with him because of Judge Jasper Sitwell.

Maria looks at her strangely, and she won't ask any questions because Maria doesn't care about Loki beyond the partner-associate boundary, but Loki hands her a briefing on a case she glanced over earlier, one that Maria will like, and sends her on her way.

Loki's so tempted to stay past midnight.

Okay, Loki really doesn't need anyone's money since her penthouse's on the Central Park side of 5th Avenue, like right across it. Fandral almost loses his shit over Natalie Rushman allegedly living there too, and Thor has to stop him from pressing every button in the elevator and going full creep on each floor.

"You get married, and now you're no fun." This is the most married thing that Thor has done. Fandral's talking out of his ass.

"Marriage is fun." Volstagg slaps him on the back, and he's heavy-handed so Thor hears that. "You're the only one who's not married now. You're the one who's missing out."

"Lucky him," Thor says and steps out the elevator. Him jealous of Fandral? His life's entered the fucking Twilight Zone.

He rings the doorbell, and it doesn't open and there's no answer he can hear. So, he knocks.

"You could try to be quieter." He asked Fandral for help to carry his stuff, and that's the only help he needs from him.

Thor lifts his fist again, and he's going to knock harder, but the door opens.

Drops of water drip off Loki's hair and run down her chest, and she has a bathrobe on, a silk one, that her nipples poke through and probably just covers her ass. Her eyelashes are all clumpy, and she's staring angrily at Thor. Of course. "You said 11:00."

10:30. Thor's a little early, whatever.

Loki pushes her lips together, and Thor remembers them around his dick, soft and full, and fuck, he's starting to get hard. "And they are…?"

"Fandral Dashing, market risk analyst The Burison Group. You're Loki, right?"

Thor saves Fandral from complete embarrassment because Loki's panties—she clearly didn't have time to put any on—aren't dropping for him and loudly points out how nice Loki's apartment is, cutting off Fandral's spiel.

It is nice and isn't as cold and impersonal as Thor was expecting. Thor can actually see himself living here.

For the next six months.

Loki gives him a fake smile and makes a meaningless noise that could be bad or good. Thor probably won't ever know. "Well, since you interrupted me, I'm going to finish getting dressed for bed. I'll be back to show you where everything you could possibly need is," she says, and Thor stares right back at her without the fake smile.

He won't pretend her talking down to him doesn't piss him off.

Volstagg grabs onto Fandral's shirt to stop him from looking under Loki's robe as she goes up the stairs, which is douchey even for him.

"You should leave."

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he says. He's grinning, and Thor's not. "I would've married her sober. I will. You're going to divorce her, and you don't even like her. I'll be the husband she deserves."

Thor says bye to Volstagg and only Volstagg, and shoves Fandral out behind him. He's still married to her. He still has the ring on his finger, and he'd rather not, but it's there.

Fandral knows the brocode.

The living room has got a killer view of Central Park like he has—he had of Midtown. Loki really loves green because literally, it's everywhere Thor looks. Not like over-indulgent or anything.

Her personal library filled with a shitload of books is though. No one can read, what, 20 big shelves of books, and look like she does. Thor's own routine of "slutting around" and getting wasted has the gym in there a few times a week, and Loki's fit.

And flexible too, really flexible.

Feeling eyes on him, he happens to look down.

Loki has a cat, a black cat.

He crouches down and motions for it to come to him. It's cute.

"Be careful he—"

He picks up the cat and turns to Loki. She's in some silky green dress-thing now and not wet. "You didn't say you had a cat."

It's purring as he pets it.

"Well, I haven't had a chance to say much of anything." She's giving him a sarcastic smile and messes with her hair, and there's nothing on her ring finger like there is on Thor's.

"Where's your ring?"

Loki lifts one of her perfect eyebrows. "In a safe place."

The cat jumps out of his arms.

"Well, you should put it on. We're still married."

"And I don't need a ring to know that."

Yeah, neither does Thor but that's what married people do, wear rings. Probably too traditional for Loki or something.

He grabs his bags and motions for her to show him where to take them, but she tilts her head to the side and folds her arms over her breasts.

"If you can carry all that stuff now, why'd you really need to bring them along? Afraid that I'll murder you?"

"My friends need to know where to find me now," he says, and Loki rolls her eyes. Blue-green but more green than blue. "So, where am I sleeping?"

He's expecting and kind of relieved when Loki shows him what's clearly a guest room. She doesn't have any ideas about making Thor's life hell before sleep, talking down to him about what pajamas he wears or something like that. And there's a TV which there wasn't downstairs, so Thor has somewhere to use his Xbox.

Loki should really like that.

"I leave at 6:00 for work and come back at 10:00," Loki says like that's not insane. "When you do whatever it is that you do—"

"I'm an investment banker."

"—when do you drag yourself out of bed?"

Not 6:00. "Whenever I feel like it. That's the perk of being your own boss."

"I'm my own boss too. But I'm the boss I would want and that means working hard."

"16 hours a day is overkill." He grabs one of his bags, unzips his pants. "I bet you don't even have time to masturbate," he says loud enough for her to hear and make an annoyed face and get out.

He jerks off in the shower to Loki in her flimsy nightgown.

This is going to be a long six months.

Loki's never had a longer five days of her life.

Her space, own, bought-and-almost-paid-for space has been invaded by him and his things that have somehow migrated their way from his temporary room to the most random places in her spotless apartment that looks less like the personal sanctuary she carefully planned out and more like some honeymoon love pad.

No, there aren't empty condom wrappers and scented body oil stains on her hardwood floors, but Thor just throws shirts and blazers anywhere when he comes for his short stints at "work," and it's okay coming home to that, but he's usually doing a lot of nothing.

Shouting at someone over the phone in Wall Street jargon with a hand rubbing his balls or crazily, petting Ikol—who hates everyone except Loki but loves Thor somehow? That's not productive.

The most productive thing Thor does is cook. Yes, Thor Odinson cooks. Surprising with how chauvinistic he's shown himself to be, but Thor's more cons than pros.

His explanation why when his parents definitely had the best cooks in world take care of their little boy? "I can't look like this by eating shitty. My mother taught me that young."

She's reading a brief on a lawsuit, and Thor's shirtless in her kitchen whistling along to Top 40 radio and cooking—it smells good, really, good—and it hasn't been a long day, but being near Thor instantly drains her.

The man never gets tired, likely because he doesn't do much of anything but the bare minimum.

"We're leaving at 7:00 tomorrow, right?"

"Mhm."

There's a plate set down, not on the brief like that one night, and she highlights a word, a time, that doesn't add up.

"What else do you do besides… lawyering?"

'Lawyering.' Christ.

She caps the highlighter and looks at Thor, his long hair tucked behind one of his ears. "Dream about 'lawyering' as I'm doing whatever else it is."

"I ask because I haven't seen you do anything but work. That has to get boring. You read, right? You've got like a library full of books and not the fun kind."

"Life isn't all about fun, and how would you know? I bet the last book you ever read was in college."

"Because reading books is boring," he says without the shame most people have the decency to show, "and I do things that are fun to me. That's what life is about. Not about working to death."

"So that 'you only live once' thing is what you live by?"

Thor shrugs, and Loki just doesn't understand what's, if anything is, going through his head. Like honestly, how can that sound anything but stupid to him? "You do only live once. I'm not going to waste my life being unhappy because it makes others feel better. They should try to make themselves as happy as I am instead of the other way around."

"Alright, I see what you're saying," she says. "I don't think I ever could live for anyone else."

His grin's a flash of perfect teeth, and he's pointing at her with his full fork. "Exactly."

Which is why tomorrow can't come soon enough.

The only time Loki will remember walking down the aisle with Thor isn't even at their own wedding. It's so funny that she doesn't have trouble smiling as Darcy and Ian exchange their awkward vows even though Darcy's nowhere near forgiven for her role in this.

Down the line when she and Ian have their little babies and Darcy asks her to be godmother, she's going to remind her of that one time she let her get married to some stranger in Vegas and let her beg, actually beg and mean it.

Thor's got a sturdy elbow and wears his tux like some kind of god, but at the end of today, Loki will be a woman free of him.

She looks around for her parents in the crowd of friends and family all waving and greeting her, congratulating her for getting Darcy down the aisle in one almost-quiet piece. They have something for her.

"Hey, gorgeous, you gonna say hi?" Clint's got his hands in his pockets, bowtie already undone.

"I looked in your direction when we lined up," she replies. "The 'hi' was implied."

He tries, of course he does, to put an arm around her, but she sidesteps him. Clint's expecting it, and he's smart to let his arm drop to his side and settle for walking beside her. He keeps giving her an odd look, and maybe her anxiousness shows, but she can't be blamed for that.

She's been married a week longer than she ever wanted to be.

Her dad's pouring himself a drink next to Darcy's, looking his usual broody self, and there's not many times that Loki's been this relieved to see him. It's usually dread when he's there, towering over people and judging them all, Loki especially, but her dad couldn't have come at a better time.

"Loki, it's always good to see you on one of the rare occasions," he says.

"You too, Dad."

He gives her this confused look and then a knowing one, and she just really, really needs that divorce.

Mr. Lewis puts an arm around Clint and leads him off laughing about how surprised he still is that his little girl's married, and her dad downs his drink in one gulp and stares her down.

"So, where is your wedding band? Or your husband for that matter? He was the blond you walked with, wasn't he?"

"I don't see the point in wearing wedding ring I'm not going to need after today," she says, and his squint at her, and her heart sinks to the very bottom of her Jimmy Choos. "Dad, please, you were about to agree before Mom hung up on you. You see that this is a miscarriage of justice."

"Please, Loki, I hear that phrase every day. The United States Judicial Branch isn't Planned Parenthood."

"Ha, ha, very funny. Dad, come on. All it takes is one call to Sitwell or someone, any Family Court judge, and I'll never ask for anything ever again. I never ask for anything, not even for my birthday."

"Ask for anything else not related to me stepping on your mother's toes, and I'll have no issue making a call. But your mother and I talked, and came to an agreement that this is the push you need to get your personal life together. To create one in the first place because we know it's nonexistent."

He never pulls punches, does he?

"It's always nice talking to you, Dad."

Loki's never lost a case. Early on there were close calls, but she won those in the end. There aren't many close calls anymore because practice makes permanent, and she's accepted that she's always going to be a winner.

But a divorce, her own divorce, she couldn't even get that. There's some irony somewhere in there that a few years from now she'll laugh at, but now, stuck married to Thor Odinson for six months, well, that's unlikely to happen anytime soon.

Thor says some enthusiastic words about brotherhood and Ian deserving happiness, and everyone claps and cheers, and Darcy leans over and whispers to Loki that she's expecting to sound like Mother Theresa in Loki's speech.

Loki swallows a mouthful of champagne and accepts the microphone from Thor. Mother Theresa Darcy, generously handing out an accidental marriage to her best friend. She takes a breath, all eyes on her, and forces a smile on her face and makes Darcy sound just like the Darcy beside her.

They clap, and it's time for cake.

Loki grabs her handbag.

"Dude, hey, you going to take a leak?"

She turns to Darcy in her fluffy lavender dress and says, "I'm leaving."

Maria asks if she was supposed to be somewhere—"a wedding or something"—and Loki nods and stares at the gold ring in her wallet as Maria tells her about the uneventful few hours she's missed.

There's an inscription on the inside she never noticed.

_Love at first sight_.

She slides it on her finger to hide how stupid that is.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Loki sets a key down on the table. She's got her wedding ring on. Good.

She's late, giving him his copy of the key now, but now, Thor doesn't have to ask the damned doorman each time he comes back when she isn't there. Which is most of the time.

"You can fuck all the women you want, but don't bring them to my apartment," she says. "Judge Sitwell might've got a little big for his robes, but your name's not on the lease." She gives him one of her sarcastic smiles and walks away.

She hates this.

It's not like Thor's thrilled either. Now that he's married, it's like he can't escape it. Not even at work because Fandral, the jealous bastard, told everyone about it, and every conversation Thor has ends up with them congratulating him. It's nice that they care, but Thor doesn't want to be married.

It isn't something to be happy about, losing his freedom to slut around and get as wasted and fuck as many women as he pleases.

He's doing all this work and getting rewarded with what?

Sitting down at his desk for a few hours, getting shit done, there used to be bigger incentive than, what, some pats on the back from the other guys. What about the celebrations with dancers and all the bottle service a man can dream of?

His father just doesn't understand that he's making Thor miserable.

Thor can only throw so many paper balls of some invoices or something else like that before the trash can gets full.

Hogun comes in with a stack of files under his arm, and Thor breathes out because work's at least something to do. Thor can do work fine.

"Tell me that's going to take me until midnight."

The stack hits Thor's desk kind of heavily, but not as heavily as 12 hours of work.

"Knowing you, it will take you an hour," Hogun says.

"Well, an hour's something."

Thor flips open a file, and an hour is overestimating. He might go crazy.

"This is maybe the most I've seen you in years," he says. "Everyone says that you must owe someone a large amount of money to someone dangerous. I believe that it's just marriage."

"You have no idea. I'd rather be here. She's gone half of the day, but everything reminds me of her. When she is there with her evil stares and her tight skirts…"

If Loki were ugly, it'd be easier for Thor to ignore her, but she's definitely not, and Thor hasn't had sex since Vegas. The thought occurred to him, but his mother and her disappointed looks, he couldn't bring himself to do anything more than go home and jerk off.

Hogun gives him a look of sympathy and pats him on the shoulder. "You can survive this."

He can, but he doesn't want to just "survive." He wants to live the life he wants.

The post-gym burn's all he can feel now. That and the sweat that's turning gritty in the A/C.

Loki keeps her apartment cold, freezing cold.

Okay, it's June, but Thor knows that it's probably like this in the winter too. He guesses she likes to have her surroundings match her personality.

He pops the lid on the blender and turns it on. Strawberry protein shake, long shower, some _BF3_, time to unwind Thor more than deserves. His parents would have to agree with that.

Under the blender, he just hears the front door close, and it's too light outside for her to come back. She has to work until she's dead in those tight dresses and sky high heels she's always wearing because it'd just be a crime not to.

Thor stops the blender. "Who's there?"

Loki in those sky high heels and a tight skirt, not a dress, stops in the doorway with one of her condescending looks already on her face. Talk about a bad surprise.

"Is the world ending?" He pours his shake in a bottle. "You're not a work."

She laughs. It's short and real and as always rude. "I have yoga." Explains the body. "Yes, I actually do something other than work."

His shirt's sticking to him and cold, so he sets down his shake and pulls it off one-handed.

Her condescending look's gone. She's just staring now at his body, and Thor can feel her eyes on him.

His dick can too.

But getting degraded in bed isn't something he's in to, no matter how fantastic Thor knows it'd be.

The sports bra and spandex bottoms she comes back down in, Thor returns the favor. Rude or not, she's got one of the tightest bodies he's ever seen, (and it's fuzzy, but Thor remembers how tight she was on the inside.)

He tells Fandral too, the way her ass looked, when he's talking about a threesome he had with identical twins—like Thor hasn't done that before—and Fandral's eyes turn into little slits and he crosses his arms, all pissed off.

Fandral jealous of Thor, that's how things should be.

Getting out of the car in front of Loki's building, not so much, but only five more months of this, and nine times of ten, Loki's not there to talk down to him.

The doorman and him say their greetings, and Thor goes to check the mail.

Loki always thanks him for it even if it's emotionless, and steadily, everything's been coming in to Thor's new but temporary address.

He closes it, and the eyes he feels on him, he turns to them.

It's Natalie Rushman. Not at movies or a movie poster or TV but in the flesh.

She's far shorter than Thor imagined but really, just as hot. Built just like a pin-up girl.

"I haven't seen you around," she says.

"I just moved in a few weeks ago," he replies. She probably doesn't know Loki anyway since Loki's at work more than she's here. "Thor Odinson."

"Well, I'm Natalie." Maybe the first genuine smile Thor's gotten in this building. "Welcome to the neighborhood." She's sarcastic, yes, but without the meanness of Loki.

"Thank you."

She nods and walks away, hips swaying.

Fandral is going to shit himself in jealousy.

Laughter, feminine laughter drifts up the stairs as she comes down in her black BB Manolos because she was just in the mood for them, and the lover of law and agreement inside her freezes because clearly, this is a violation of those easy to abide by terms Loki gave Thor along with a key to her apartment.

Jasper Sitwell and his injunction will think something of Thor's infidelity under their "shared" roof.

She's been patient with him and his messiness, his shirtlessness, but this isn't going to fly.

Thor's sitting at Loki's breakfast table shirtless with Sif Krig.

No model/escort with blonde hair and plastic breasts but a power-suit wearing, 'probably hasn't touched make-up in her life' investment banker.

When they met, Sif asked her how she walked in her shoes, Daffodil Louboutins as far as Loki remembers. She called them "things."

"Loki Laufeysdottir, I didn't think I'd ever see you outside of Wachtell," says Sif. She sits across Thor, not draped over him, and in rather uninspired clothes, so Sitwell will unfortunately not get a visit from Loki.

"Yes, I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Thor leans back, and his pecs flex in a completely inhuman way. It's unreal, and Loki needs coffee soon. "We already ate, but there's a plate in the microwave for you," he says. "And I didn't know you knew each other."

Burison underwrites mergers, and Loki's clients love their mergers.

"We've met," Sif says. "Unlike you, I didn't just start caring about the bank's big picture."

"I don't need to be there 24/7 to work. I do a lot with a short amount of time. I'm not the boss for nothing."

"One of the bosses. Odin's not stupid enough to make you in charge."

On the Sitwell thing, maybe.

Thor's giving her lovey-dovey eyes, and Sif's pretending to mean all that.

"So, you're together?" She can't keep the hope out of her voice because this could change things like that busty bottle blonde would've.

Thor's eyebrows pinch together, and his morning cheer's gone.

Sif spits her juice back into her glass, Loki's glass.

"No," Sif says. She shakes her head like she's not talking unnecessarily loud. "No."

"Yeah, she's like the sister that I can't get rid of. If we were the last two people on Earth, maybe, but I'd put a bag over her head."

"Please, you'd be exposed for the fraud you are without me, and the human race would go extinct."

Alright, Loki's a little disappointed, but Thor will slip up though. Daddy's little frat boy can't keep it in his Ralph Lauren chinos much longer.

Sif squints at her. "You know, you're actually not Thor's type at all. He usually goes for someone less... What'd you say, Thor? 'Controlling and frigid.' I mean, there's also you being independently successful without taking your top off."

Worse things have been said about Loki by smarter people.

Ikol slides against Thor's legs because he's attracted to something in him that no one else but he and Loki have, and Sif moves to pet him under the table. He hisses. Loudly.

"Jesus."

Loki drops her cup in the sink. She'll get a bagel along with that coffee, black, on the way in.

"Be careful," Loki says.

Thor's checking out her ass, and Sif's shaking her head at him.

"He bites."

Her black Cassandra Brian Atwoods are low enough that the judge won't claim that she's a distraction to the court because he can't stop staring at her legs, imagining what they lead up to under her skirt, and Loki respects the court, so they're her compromise.

The elevator doors open, and the associates and clerks turn their eyes to anything else but her, pick up their pace or step aside to put some distance between her and them. There are the brave ones with their rushed "Miss Laufeysdottir"s, and she can't say she's not happy to hear it.

She is Miss Laufeysdottir, wedding ring or not.

Malcolm's there with his white hair and impossibly dark eyes in that path they cleared for her.

Her left heel wobbles, but 365 days of practice have made perfect. It doesn't break, and she doesn't scream like she wants to.

She has twenty minutes until she has to be in court.

Malcolm looks down at her with that little smile of his, and whatever he wants, she doesn't have time for this. She gave him way too much of her time before, and Loki's time is money.

She starts to tell him she's not interested in what he has to say.

He drops down to one knee, and Malcolm knelt on the ground he thinks is lucky for him to walk on. Christ, this man never gets it, does he?

"Malcolm—"

He has a ring in his hand, and it's one of the biggest diamonds she's ever seen.

Oh my god.

She has to get to court.

"Loki, I have everything I want in life except you. I know that marrying you, would complete me. I can give you anything you could possibly want, and when you get tired of everyone else, of them not appreciating you like I will, you can take your rightful place in my empire, in the one you helped me build. Loki, will you marry me?"

They're staring in that way people do when they see something so adorable.

This is anything but adorable.

His hands are uncomfortable, and she never wants to touch them ever again after this.

Malcolm stands, but he's staring at her hands still in his because he's holding them, and Loki bites her teeth hard and puts on a tight smile as she pulls them away. "What is this?"

The ring that she's trying to forget.

"Malcolm, I'm already married."

He only knows how to look insufferably smug or pissed off, and right now, he's really pissed off. He can't get what he wants like usual like she would've said yes otherwise.

"I don't want to be married, and when I get the chance to, I won't be. I am married, but I still want to get married," she says, slowly and carefully so he fully gets it.

"Who is it?"

"Does it matter?"

Malcolm puts that ring away, thank god. "He can't give you what I can."

Private jets to Vladimir Putin's vacation home in Moscow and arguments over Loki not devoting herself to him and boring, boring sex, Thor probably can't give her that, no.

She finally answers that first question of his with a nice, firm, "No," and walks away from him again.

The associates run in the opposite direction now.

"You don't mean that, Loki."

No matter how loud Malcolm shouts it, it doesn't change that Loki doesn't want to be married to him anymore than she wants to be married to Thor Odinson.

Well, Thor's way nicer to look at, so she takes that back.

She'd rather be married to Thor Odinson.


End file.
